


Lemon Levirate

by JessicaJones



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-01
Updated: 2011-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-26 18:16:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/286425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaJones/pseuds/JessicaJones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My collected Anora/Alistair kmeme fills, in various citrus flavors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Whatever You Want

**Author's Note:**

> These don't all fit into the Love & Levirate universe, they are one-shots, but they have a similar tone and feature a sympathetic Anora.

_Original Prompt: Anora/Alistair fluff_

_Let's imagine King Cailan was a terrible lover. Think about it: he's gorgeous, he's wealthy, he's the King... there's no shortage of women falling all over themselves to be with him, and no matter what they really think, they'll tell him he's incredible, he's amazing, he's the best they've ever had. Anora has only ever been with Cailan, so in her experience, sex is a rather short, boring affair after which both parties simply roll over and go to sleep._

_After the Blight, Alistair is made King with Anora as his Queen. On the night they are to consummate their marriage, Anora goes in expecting much of the same... and is completely blown away. I want a sweet, attentive Alistair making love to Anora like she's never had it before._

* * *

The ceremony was brief and elegant, just as she had planned it, and her new marriage was almost official. There was just one small detail to attend, and Anora sighed. Best to get it done with as soon as possible, she thought. She had a lot of work to do in the morning.

Anora threw herself down on their massive bed, rolled over to face the ceiling, and hiked up her skirt. Her knees parted. “Whenever you’re ready,” she said blandly, then crossed her arms and waited.

Alistair hesitated where he stood. “Just like that?” he asked, looking nonplussed.

She gestured vaguely. “If you need some help getting started, I believe Cailan kept some stimulating pictures in the nightst—”

“No that’s okay thank you!” Alistair pressed the pads of his fingers into his eyes and exhaled before lowering his hands. He walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. “Look, I don’t need any... help, it’s just. Well.” He cleared his throat. “Can we just talk, for a minute?”

“Ugh.” Anora rolled her eyes. “First you want to hold my hand and now you want to chit-chat?”

“Kinky right?” Alistair rested his hands in his lap and gave a lop-sided grin. “Look, the truth is this is only the second time I’ve ever done this, and the first time wasn’t...” His expression darkened unexpectedly, and Anora propped herself up on her elbows to watch him. After a moment Alistair shook his head and smiled again. “What I mean is, um, I’d rather this was a little more personal, since we have to spend the rest of our lives together and all.” He looked down at his hands, fidgeting a little. “And also I don’t really know what I’m doing. So if you have any special requests...?”

Anora frowned. “Try not to snore afterwards?”

“No, I’m serious.” Alistair looked up again and he shifted a little closer to her, so that his knee just touched her leg. “You’ve got way more experience than me, Anora. You have to help me out here.” He covered her hand with his and squeezed her fingers. “What do you like? What gives you _pleasure_?”

He put an uncomfortable emphasis on the last word, and Anora was surprised to feel her cheeks warm. She had been married to Cailan for a long time— for five years, two months, and eighteen days, to be precise. But while their union had not been without affection, it was not the sort of marriage where one asked questions about pleasure.

“I don’t know,” she said, pulling her hand away. She found herself at a strange loss for words. “The usual, I suppose.”

Alistair laughed. “I have no idea what that means,” he said. “Could you elaborate?”

Anora frowned as she realized that she could not, actually, and his line of questioning was beginning to make her feel foolish. She did not like that feeling. “I’d rather not,” she snipped. “If it’s important to you, you’ll just have to find out for yourself.”

For some reason this made Alistair’s eyes light up. “I’d like that,” he said. He leaned over her, planting a small kiss on her cheek. Then he pulled back, flashing a shy smile, before his lips moved to her mouth.

Anora’s eyes widened. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been kissed on the mouth. His eyelids fluttered shut, and she stared at him for a moment before allowing her eyes to close as well. His lips were unbelievably soft against hers, and warm, and then her mouth opened and their tongues just touched, startling as an electric shock, and Anora made a small noise in the back of her throat. He tasted sweeter than she expected and she surprised herself by sitting up, her hand moving to the back of his neck, leaning into the kiss.

She felt the heat of his hands on her bodice. “Can we take this off?” She pulled back a little and he added quickly, “I mean, if it’s okay with you. I don’t want to rush—”

“No, of course. It’s fine.” It was a good sign they were moving forward, she thought. She really did have a lot of work to do. Anora moved quickly to help him unlace her corset.

After some awkward fumbling, his fingers bumping into hers, the bindings finally loosened. She lifted her arms as he pulled her dress over her head. The garment jostled her braids, and Alistair reached up to pull out the pins, letting her hair fall loose. Then he paused, his eyes roaming over her figure. He drew a breath through his teeth.

“You’re very beautiful,” he said.

Her eyebrow quirked, and she looked up to meet his eyes. Anora had been told she was beautiful so many times that it had almost become an insult, but Alistair seemed to mean it sincerely. She couldn’t explain how that made her feel; she shivered and looked down.

“I’m sorry! Are you cold?” His hands went up to her arms, warming her with his skin.

Alistair was looking at her with such concern that she felt herself blushing again. Anora shook her head quickly. “No...” she said. “I just, ah, well... I feel a bit silly sitting here naked when you’re still wearing all your clothes.”

“Oh, that. Right. Yes.” Alistair took a deep breath, seeming uncomfortable again, before he tugged his shirt out of his waistband and pulled it over his head.

His face disappeared behind fabric, and her eyes wandered over his chest, watching his muscles flex. He stood up to shimmy out of his trousers, and Anora swallowed hard. She had forgotten what it was like to see a man undress for the first time.

When she looked back at his face he was blushing, and his shoulders hunched slightly inward. Despite his superficial resemblance to Cailan, she thought he was much less sure of himself. Anora reached out and touched him tentatively on the arm.

“We can proceed, if you like,” she said. Alistair looked up and she frowned slightly. “I mean you needn’t be shy. You’re quite attractive.”

She saw his posture relax. “Really?” he asked, and when Anora nodded his face brightened immediately.

He kissed her again, more confident now, and Anora fell back against the blankets. Alistair followed her down, and then he was kissing her neck, his hands moving along her ribcage, over her breasts, across her stomach, lingering whenever her breath caught. His mouth followed his hands, exploring her body, awakening nerves she didn’t know she had. Anora felt an unfamiliar ache gathering in her core.

When his lips brushed her nipple her body twitched, and she drew a sharp breath. “You really don’t need to go to all this effort,” she said. He pressed a kiss into the hollow of her hip, his hand roaming over her thigh, and Anora lost her train of thought. After a moment she added, somewhat breathlessly, “We’re already married.”

Alistair lifted his head. “That might be the saddest thing I have ever heard,” he said, and his eyes softened strangely. “There’s really nothing you want me to do?”

Anora face felt hot again, and she looked away. “There might be one thing.”

“Oh?” Alistair looked like an eager puppy, and she let out a little laugh, but he waited for her expectantly, somehow undeterred.

Anora smiled girlishly. When she had been seventeen she’d found a book she wasn’t meant to find, a book about pirates and bandits and very worldly men with clever mouths. She hadn’t thought about that book in years, but she remembered the way it made her feel when she read it, and every night after when she’d re-read a particular passage by candlelight, alone in her bed, imagining...

“I suppose, if you insist,” she said, and she paused and pursed her lips. “You could, um... with you tongue.” When he looked confused, she glanced southward suggestively.

He followed her gaze and his eyes widened. “That sounds complicated,” he said.

“I assure you that it isn’t,” she replied. Although really she had no idea.

He furrowed his brow for a moment. Then he shrugged and disappeared beneath the crest of her pelvis, and Anora’s breath came quicker. Alistair lifted his head.

“Let me know if I’m doing it wrong,” he said, and then he disappeared again and her body tensed.

Anora gasped when he kissed her inner thigh, his lips just grazing her skin. She could feel his breath warm on that tender skin, and her pulse pounded. She could hardly believe this was actually happening. When his mouth touched her she almost jumped and he pulled back. A soft needy noise escaped her and then he returned, wet heat against her sudden longing, but it wasn’t quite there; Anora shifted under him and the next swipe of his tongue hit just so and she couldn’t have stopped herself from moaning if she'd tried.

“Can you...?” Alistair looked up but Anora couldn’t seem to form a coherent sentence. She held up a finger and Alistair grinned, apparently understanding.

Then his mouth was on her again, and she felt the pressure of his finger inside her, and she whimpered helplessly. It was more vivid than she’d ever imagined. Under his rather diligent attention her need gathered, and coiled, and then it _exploded_. Anora cried out. Her back arched and her body clenched and she silently cursed every day she had gone without trying this.

When she stopped trembling, Alistair lifted himself up on arms and he crawled over her to lie down by her side. He traced slow circles on her stomach with the tips of his fingers. “We can stop now, if you want,” he said, but his voice was rough, and Anora could feel a different story pressed against her hip.

She shook her head. “We have to consummate the marriage,” she chided.

He pushed her hair back from her face. “I don’t want to do anything you don’t want."

"Alistair." Anora smiled. “I want to consummate the marriage.”

He grinned, and she thought she heard him let out of a sigh of relief as he rolled over her, lifting himself up on his arms as she spread her legs for him. He looked at her with sweet eyes and she thought he might be about to ask her if it was okay, again, and then he shifted his weight and pushed forward and Anora gasped with the shock of the feeling of him inside her.

A look of concern crossed his face. “Anora are you—”

“Yes I’m fine.” More than fine, she thought. Anora drew a shaky breath. “Please continue.”

He nodded and moved carefully; her overly sensitized flesh responded with fire. Anora lifted her hips to him and, encouraged, he pushed back. He lowered himself to her, threading his arms behind her back, and pulled her tight against him. The closeness was unbelievable. His body moved with hers, sinuous and needful, and Anora had a dawning realization of what it was to be a lover and not an obligation between mistresses.

He lifted his head to smile down at her, watching her lip quiver as he thrust. Anora looked back up at him. It was somehow both terrifying and thrilling to look into that familiar face and see someone completely different. “Alistair, you’re not—”

Her husband stopped abruptly. “Not what?” he asked worriedly, meeting her eyes. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“No, I...” Anora realized she was about to say _Alistair you’re not anything like Cailan_ but then she realized this was a completely inappropriate thing to say. Her husband was giving her a funny look, and she gamely tried to rescue her dignity. “You’re not... uh... uncomfortable?”

“No, of course not.” He laughed, and then he smiled so genuinely that Anora’s breath caught in her throat. His knuckle brushed her cheek. “Are you? Did you maybe want to try a different position?”

“Huh?” Anora scowled; she had no idea where that came from. “Why would I want to do that? I really like being queen.”

“No, I mean...” Alistair laughed, and his cheeks colored again. “I meant us, um, physically. Did you want to try being on top, or something?”

Anora gaped at him. Cailan was always on top, without question. She had fairly assumed that this was the way of things, that it might be emasculating to lie beneath a woman. And yet here Alistair was, offering himself to her. Anora smiled. She did very much like control.

“Yes, please,” she said, perhaps a little too eagerly.

Alistair seemed pleased, though. He hooked his arms behind her shoulders and flipped himself over, landing her on top of him. He cradled her hips in his hands, and she ran her hands over his chest.

“Did you have something particular you wanted me to do up here?” she asked.

He beamed up at her. “Whatever you want,” he said.

Anora realized exactly what she wanted, then, and that was _him_ , screaming beneath her. She rocked her hips experimentally, finding the movements that electrified her, shifting her position until she felt that sparkling tension building again. Alistair seemed to be tensing also. His eyes rolled back in his head and Anora felt a thrill of power.

She rose and fell over him, their bodies crushing together as that tension rippled, and built, and then suddenly released in a rush of bliss. The novelty of it overwhelmed her, and Anora completely lost her mind. She announced her orgasm with such atypical abandon that she realized, much later, that half the castle must have heard.

His eyes went wide as the sound of her climax pushed him over the edge. His hips bucked and he clutched her legs in his hands. She kept moving until his body went boneless, giving back that much, and then her strength gave out and she collapsed beside him. Her head sunk into the pillows while she struggled to catch her breath.

Anora gazed up at the ceiling, speechless in the afterglow. Everything was different now, she thought. She was going to have to reevaluate a few things.

All of a sudden Alistair rolled onto his side and wrapped his arms around her waist, snuggling up against her. Anora almost grunted in surprise. She was not a cuddly person, and Cailan had never thought to cuddle her; she was a Mac Tir, after all, and not a teddy bear. Still she found herself oddly comfortable in his arms, and when he took her hand this time she didn’t pull away.

“Thank you,” he said, and he pushed a sloppy kiss into her cheek. “That was exactly what I wanted.”

Anora was about to gush before she caught herself; too much praise might make him cocky and spoil everything. She bit her lip. “I suppose I didn’t mind,” she said carefully. “We could do this again sometime. Maybe.” She glanced at him. “If you’re good.”

That seemed to be enough for Alistair, who sighed contentedly and drifted off to sleep. Anora lay with her head on his shoulder and wondered if she would ever get any work done, ever again.

\----

_Incidentally, after this sexing Anora’s heart grew three sizes and she understood the true meaning of Christmas. ^_^_


	2. Shop Talk

_Original Prompt: Certain things excite Queens...trade agreements, treaties, etc. How about a sex scene with Anora and whoever where it's obvious that it's work that excites her...  
_   


* * *

 

Well past the witching hour, Anora made her way to the palace library to find a book on dwarven etiquette. She had a meeting with King Bhelen in the morning and she wanted to be prepared. Walking down the stacks, she ran her finger across the spines until she came to the spot where the book should have been.

“Hi, Anora.”

Anora jumped. “Your Majesty!” she gasped, placing her hand over her heart. She noticed her husband sitting in an alcove, and she frowned. “What are you doing here? Did you get lost again?”

Alistair laughed. “No,” he replied. “Just doing a little reading.”

Anora noticed that he did in fact have a book in his hands. She walked up behind him and peered down at the pages over his shoulder. “And it doesn’t even have any pictures,” she said mildly.

“Oh, there’s a few.” He closed the book so she could see the cover. Her breath hitched as she read the title, _On Dwarven Society: The Complete Compendium of Dwarven Etiquette and Manners_. “Mostly diagrams on how to bow properly,” he said, with a shrug. “Their height makes it complicated, you know.”

Anora took note of the other books piled around him, mostly histories. She leaned over him, resting her hand on his shoulder as she scanned the page. “I was looking for that book myself,” she said. “Why don’t you summarize it for me?”

“Yeah?” Alistair looked at her over his shoulder. “Well, let’s see. It says dwarves respect strength above all else. When speaking to dwarves one should make every effort to hide weakness.”

“Fascinating,” she said, near his ear.

“Hmm, what else? Oh. Dwarves don’t find schemes and back alley deals distasteful the way other races do. In dwarven government, pretty much anything goes.” Anora slid her hands down his chest as he spoke. His voice had never sounded so _diplomatic_ before. “They admire cunning and are never embarrassed to haggle, which is part of why they make such good... oh, hello.” Her hands had travelled down to his trousers and wandered inside, her fingertips skimming across his skin. He turned his head to kiss her, and she shook her head quickly.

“Keep talking,” she said. Anora worried his earlobe between her teeth. “I need to know this.”

“I... um, okay, I guess. Oh! Their bloodlines and ancestors are really important to them. ” Her fingers pushed through his short hairs and Alistair took a sharp breath. “And they really, really like rocks. Stones, whatever. Don’t mess with a dwarf’s stones. I mean... ahh...” He shuddered and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. “I forget what I mean.”

Anora came around to face him. She hiked up her skirt and sat on his lap, straddling him, then leaned over to taste the warm skin of his neck. “I didn’t know you were so interested in dwarven politics,” she said breathlessly, between kisses.

He ran his hands up her legs to splay his fingers across her hips, and when she began to writhe against his lap, her pelvis pushing against groin, his eyes widened. “I didn’t know you were so interested in my being interested,” he said.

His hands moved up her back and pulled her tight against him, the muscles of his arms tensing under her hands. He was very strong, she thought, and the dwarven king would surely be impressed. Anora flushed with excitement.

She covered his mouth with a kiss, and felt his erection already straining against the fabric of his trousers, like a hungry animal starved for food. Anora realized she had been neglecting some of her duties to the Crown lately. She slid off his lap to the floor.

“How do we greet him?” she asked, as she began to unbutton his trousers.

He stared down at her incredulously, as the Queen of Ferelden was not in the habit of getting on her knees for anyone, but the shop talk was making her rather giddy and she was feeling generous. Alistair shook his head quickly. “H-how do we greet w-who?”

“The King of Orzammar, obviously,” she explained. She pulled his trousers down around his hips and looked up at him. “Do we salute? Kiss his ring? Surely the book covered this.”

“Oh, yeah, um... shake his hand.” Anora nodded once before freeing him from the confines of his smallclothes. She lowered her head to his lap. As she swiped her tongue down the seam, Alistair gasped, throwing his head back. “But a, uh, strong one. Has to be a firm... handshake.”

Anora glanced up at him. “Nobody likes a limp one, really,” she said, before taking his length into her mouth.

The motion elicited a shock of pleasure from him, and his body shook as he reached for her hair. “Yeah... and it’s... really important that you... look them in the eyes when you... talk to them... but don’t... slouch, it’s... insulting.” He bit his lip and looked down at her. “Can I stop talking now?”

She sat back on her heels, and he whimpered as she released him. “Did you want me to stop?”

“No...”

“Well, then.”

Alistair looked around helplessly. “Orzammar is a patrilineal society?”

“Mmm, talk _dirty_ to me, Alistair.” She bent over him and resumed her attentions, her lips humming along his shaft.

His hands gripped the arms of his chair, whitening the knuckles, and he took a deep breath. “Caste is determined by a child’s father so dwarvenwomenoftenshamelesslyseekthecompany of highercastemeninordertosecureabetterfutureforthemselvesandtheirfamilies and thishasslowlydegradedthesocialstatusofwomenintheupperechelonsof dwarven society,” he blurted, and exhaled.

Anora moaned against him. Sexual politics were a personal passion of hers, and to hear such an astute observation, even if it was obviously just paraphrased back from Khate Millaet’s seminal text on the subject... she ached with desire. She rose suddenly to her feet, leaving his cock naked and glistening.

Alistair let out a simpering whine. “Maker’s breath, Anora, you can’t keep stopping like that, I’m going to—”

She grabbed his collar with both hands. “Take me now, Alistair!” she cried, pulling him to his feet. “Take me like Bhelen Aeducan took the throne!”

He looked briefly confused. “In front of an assembly of deshyrs and with a blatant disregard for the elective process?”

She looked back at him through fluttering eyelashes. “I was thinking ‘Roughly,’” she said, as she shimmied out of her smallclothes, “and at the pleasure of a Grey Warden.’”

“Oh, phew!” He pushed her back against the stacks. The bookshelf trembled as he lifted her up onto his hips, his hands gripping her thighs, and she gasped he entered her. She gave thanks once again that the Warden had hardened him.

“Alistair, you are so well _informed!_ ”

She heard books tumbling off the shelf as the bulk of his desire filled her. Her legs twined around his and she inclined her head. Their discussion had been very stimulating, and she was already surprisingly close. Each thrust brought a new hint of ecstacy, and Anora saw her prize, glittering just out of reach. She clutched him desperately and angled her hips, begging him deeper insider her.

“Atrast vala!” she cried out, as she reached her goal and wave after wave of orgasm swept through her. As it crested she leaned back against the bookshelf, boneless and sated.

“We’re not quite done here, your Majesty,” Alistair said, smiling rakishly. He crossed his arms behind her back and flipped her down to the floor, and her body spasmed in delighted aftershocks as he dove back inside her.

“I love it when you call me by my title,” she breathed, as he rocked against her. She arched her back and her lips parted slightly.

“I love it when your face looks like that,” he said. He held her chin between thumb and forefinger and looked into her eyes. “You’d think Bhelen had just signed a treaty of non-aggression.”

“Maker, yes!!”

Anora lifted her hips to him and moaned. He pressed his face into her neck. “Or consented to a prejudicial trade agreement,” he whispered, and her heart skipped a beat.

“Alistair, you scoundrel,” she gasped, and she felt tension building inside her again, quite unexpectedly. He moved assuredly and with startling urgency, and Anora yielded to him. His hands tightened on her wrists and she closed her eyes. As he found release she succumbed, shivering blissfully as he pushed her over the edge a second time.

After a moment Alistair pulled himself free. He pushed himself up on his arms and looked down at her.

“That was different,” he observed.

“Yes, well,” she said, lounging in the afterglow. “I like to mix business with pleasure.”


	3. Say My Name

_Original Prompt: Alistair and Anora have been (mostly) happily married for some time now, but old memories die hard, and Alistair is her dead husband's brother. So at the end of a particularly stressful day (possibly around the aniversary of Ostagar), Anora calls him Cailan while having sex. Cue to some hurt/angry sex where Alistair wants to make sure that she knows who she's having sex with or sex where Anora convinces him that while she misses Cailan, she loves him and knows who she's with._

* * *

She dreamt of sword fights and snow flakes and a love story like in the tales. Anora moaned softly. It had been so long she’d almost given up hope.

Half awake she glimpsed the too familiar profile of his face and she reached out to him. Her hands trailed over the familiar planes of his body, and he was asleep but she let her hands roam lower until he responded. Her husband stirred, grasping at her in the heavy needful way of a man who has been roused from sleep, his hands moving over her breasts as his lips found her mouth.

Anora closed her eyes and let herself be taken. He rose over her, his body warm and vital between her thighs. She whimpered when he thrust into her. And though his hair did not brush her cheek when he kissed her, and the rough skin of his fingers was not the unspoiled skin of privilege, it had been so long, and memory gave way to fantasy.

“Cailan,” she whispered. It came out as half a sob.

Above her, he stopped suddenly, his hands going tense. Anora heard him swallow. The dream pulled away and she felt her skin go hot as she realized what she’d done.

“That’s a funny way to pronounce ‘Alistair,’” he said eventually.

He withdrew and rolled off of her. “I think you misheard me,” Anora said quickly. “I said _call_ in--”

“Anora, please.” In the moonlight, they looked almost exactly alike. Alistair shook his head. “Honestly, I’m surprised it’s never happened before. It’s fine.”

He smiled at her, that stiff smile of his that meant he was terribly hurt but pretending not to be. Anora exhaled. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just, well, with the Ostagar pentennial coming up... he’s been on my mind.”

“Oh.” His eyes softened. “It’s hard for me too.”

Anora didn’t respond, only sunk deeper under the covers. Five years she had been married to Cailan, and five years since he had gone. If their marriage had been an hourglass that was turned upside down when he died, it would be empty now.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Alistar asked.

Anora chewed her lip. “No.”

Alistair fell back against the mattress. “Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if Duncan had survived. If he’d been there in Denerim, maybe Nya would have lived, too. Maybe things would have gone better in Amaranthine. Maybe I wouldn’t...” His voice caught. “Sorry, you said you didn’t want to talk.”

Anora let out a laugh. “That’s never stopped you before.”

He chuckled, and then rolled back onto his side, crossing his hand over her waist. The warmth was somewhat comforting; Cailan never clung to her like that.

“You must have loved him very much,” he said.

Anora would never have chosen those words. “It’s complicated,” she said. “We were betrothed from birth. We grew up together, we were friends. And he was very romantic, and handsome, and charming. He loved stories...”

Anora remembered how he used to share his favorites with her. Sometimes he even acted them out with wooden swords, and she could still see the flush of his cheeks when they fought. She had loved his stories, and in the naivete of her youth she had always imagined herself as the heroine, the Lady Talia to his Garren.

“Tell me about your wedding,” Alistair said.

Anora eyed him. “Why would you want to know about that?”

Alistair shrugged. “Jealous curiosity?”

“Well, it was a lovely wedding,” Anora told him. “It was early Umbrallis, and it was snowing.” She remembered the tingle of snowflakes against her skin, the butterflies in her stomach, the warm feeling of his hand holding hers as they both nervously took the dais. “I was wearing white, and Cailan was wearing his golden armor, and everything was red and gold for Satinalia, and it could not have been more... well, you’ve seen the snow globes.”

Alistair winced. “And I’ve worn the armor.”

Anora nodded; the images of the two ceremonies had blurred together somewhat in her memory. “Of course the reality of our marriage was quite different,” she said, after some time. “It’s probably best he died when he did.” She shook her head. “For all his charm, Cailan wasn’t... if he hadn’t died he would have left me for Celene. For _Celene_.”

That posthumous betrayal still stung, and Anora crossed her arms over her chest. She did not want to talk anymore. Alistair went still beside her, so still that she thought he must have gone to sleep until he spoke again.

“I’d never leave you for Celene,” he said. “She has that weird mole.”

Anora looked at him. “I know that,” she said.

Alistair didn’t quite meet her eyes. “I’ve never been with anyone else, Anora. I’ve never been unfaithful to you in any way. Have I disappointed you somehow?” Anora shook her head, and he pulled her closer. “So why are you still dreaming about your cheating, ne’er-do-well louse of a husband?”

He said it lightly but Anora knew he didn’t mean it that way. She looked down at her fingers, where Alistair’s ring had replaced Cailan’s. “I don’t have to dream about you,” she said. “You’re still here.”

“So all I have to do to win your affection is die in the full glory of some fool notion.” He scowled at her. “Here I thought you liked flowers.”

Anora sighed. “Please don’t be difficult,” she said. “You have my affection.”

“Do I?” His voice dropped to almost a growl, and he gave her a rather deadly look. He leaned over her. “Say my name.”

Anora was startled to realize he was still aroused. “...Alistair?”

Alistair frowned. “Okay that’s technically my name but I think you can do better than that.” He spread her legs with his knees. “Say _my_ name.”

He pressed himself against her and she inclined her head. “Alistair,” she gasped, as he entered her again. She could see him better this time. His eyes locked on hers and she moaned again. “ _Alistair_.”

“That’s better,” he said. He wrapped his arms around her and buried himself inside her. He rocked his hips with an almost desperate need for closeness, and beneath him Anora knew that this was how it was supposed to feel. She was not his princess but she was his wife. His body tightened and he found release; his need was infectious and she felt herself falling over the edge.

He fell to the mattress and Anora stared wide-eyed up at the ceiling. It was not usually like that for her. She could hear him breathing beside her, and when his breath slowed he reached for her hand.

“I want to be the one you dream about,” Alistair said. “I’m sorry if that’s selfish.”

Anora turned onto her side and considered him. He did not look so much like Cailan if one took in all the details: the coarse hair that would never stay neat, the small scar on his chin from his time as a fighter, the Andrastian sword he wore on his neck.

“You know, you’re everything Cailan ever wanted to be,” she said. “You’re the brave and chivalrous knight, the romantic hero of a story that will be told for generations. You have his face and his kingdom. And me.” She tucked her hands under her head. “If I give up my dreams you’ll replace him entirely.”

Alistair looked surprised at this, and chastised, and he frowned and turned away from her as he mulled this over.

“I do understand, you know,” he said, after a little while. “Why you remember him well. I mean, Duncan had flaws.” He glanced up at the ceiling and bit his lip. “He had so many flaws. If I’m being honest with myself, I know that.” Then he looked at her again, and he squeezed her hand. “None of them change the fact that he’s dead, and that he shouldn’t be.”

Anora sighed. “He was my friend,” she said wistfully, “and I’m all that’s left of him.”

“Of course... I don’t have sexy dreams about Duncan.”

Alistair grinned, his usual affable grin that meant he was reassured. His fingers slipped under the sheets and he tried to tickle her; she slapped his hand.

“I beg to differ,” she said. “I do believe I heard you calling out his name last night.”

Alistair’s cheeks reddened. “No, no, you misheard me,” he protested. “I said _dunk_ in-”

Despite herself Anora laughed; Alistair was very charming in his own way. She let herself fall back asleep beside him, taking care not to look at his profile.


	4. Some Areas of Mystery

_This wasn't a prompt... it was more of a dare: Anora proposes that she have a tryst with a woman. For political reasons. Love & Levirate universe, more or less._  


* * *

  
Her hand on the door, Anora hesitated before entering the King’s study. In the three years that they had been married, she had learned to anticipate most of his reactions, but there were still some areas of mystery between them. She had no idea what he would make of this request; she didn’t know quite what to make of it herself. There was only one way to find out, though, so she took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

“Alistair,” she said, loud enough to startle him. She always found it best to catch him slightly off guard, and she continued before he had a chance to settle. “I’ve just received an unusual request from Keeper Lanaya. I thought I should bring it to your attention.”

Catching himself, Alistair set down the book he was reading and looked up at her from behind his desk. His brow furrowed. “Is there some problem with the land at Ostagar?”

“No. Quite the contrary.” Anora clasped her hands together, pressing her thumbs into the backs of her hands. After a moment she continued. “The construction is almost complete, and I am told it is satisfactory. More than satisfactory, in fact, which I suppose is why...”

Alistair was regarding her curiously, so she sat down opposite him and cleared her throat. “Apparently among the Dalish, when an accord has been reached between two tribes, it is customary for their respective leaders to... couple. It is a physical expression of the bond they now share.” Anora bit her lip. “And Lanaya has just requested an audience at the castle for this purpose.”

Alistair stared at her. “You’re having me on,” he said. Anora looked at him very seriously, without blinking, and he frowned. “Lanaya wants to couple with me?”

“Oh, no, not you,” Anora said, with a quick wave of her hand. “With me.”

“With you.” Her husband’s expression was unreadable.

“Yes.” Anora smiled faintly. “I wouldn’t take it as any slight, Alistair. You know she holds you in high regard.” She glanced away, her eyes drawn to the open window behind him. Prince Gareth was playing with his nurse in the gardens, and her brow creased. “I think it’s just that it would be awkward if a Dalish Keeper happened to bear a human child.”

“Whereas asking to sleep with my wife is _completely_ natural?”

Anora laughed. “The Dalish are a very strange people,” she agreed, then she shook her head and stood up. “Well, then I shall tell her no, of course.”

He nodded slowly. “You shouldn’t agree to anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not that it...” Anora paused, and when their eyes met she felt her lip betray her by twitching. Alistair leaned forward, his arms folding in front of him on his desk. She looked down at his hands.

“Um." He was giving her a funny look. "Did you want to say yes?”

She tapped her fingernail against the polished wood of his desk. “Well, it would be better if we could accommodate her," she said, "but then I would never want to put you in a position where you would feel...” She realized she was rambling, and Alistair did not seem convinced. Anora felt her cheeks warm, and she looked up at the ceiling. “In all honestly... yes. I think I might like to say yes.”

“Anora, I never would have guessed.” He rested his chin in his palm and grinned impishly, his eyes sparkling. “She’s very pretty.”

“Mm, she is. And it has been a long time since I was with a woman.” At this his eyes widened, and his jaw went slack in an expression of perfect innocence. Anora looked at him down her nose. “Oh, don’t act surprised. You must have heard rumors.”

“Of course I've _heard_ them. Ruminated on them, even, sometimes when you were, um, indisposed, but I never thought you actually...” Alistair sat back, and he carefully crossed one leg over the other. “When was this? And with who, exactly?”

Anora shrugged. “This was all before we were married, Alistair, I assure you. You don’t know any of them.” Then she sighed, a faraway look in her eyes. “Well except for Cauthrien, of course, but we were both much younger then.”

“ _Ser_ Cauthrien?”

His voice jumped up an octave, and he squirmed in such a way that made Anora smile amusedly. She crossed around his desk to better look down at him.. “Alistair, are you quite all right?”

“Sure, I’m fine. I just... wow.” He swallowed and shifted in his chair. “She has very full lips, hasn’t she? And breasts. And you also have breasts. And then you... and her... and you...” He covered his mouth with his hand. “I think I need a moment.”

Anora suppressed a laugh. “Alistair, I never imagined you had sapphic fantasies.” She pushed his knee aside and parted his legs with hers, standing between his thighs. His breath hitched and she draped her arms over his shoulders. "May I accept her invitation, then?"

His skin warmed under her hands. "It's a very attractive image," he said, "but I don't think I'm comfortable... loaning you out like that."

Anora leaned closer to him. “If you like, I could ask Lanaya if you might attend." She looked at him through dark lashes and he unconsciously wet his lips. "I am sure if you promised not to despoil her, she would be amenable.”

"If I promise to..." He stared at her as his voice trailed off, and she saw something flash across his eyes. Then he quickly shook his head. “But what about boundaries?”

“Don't be silly. It’s not like I haven’t done it before." His eyes widened again, and she shrugged. “With Cailan, obviously.” She waved a pale hand. “I mean... Cailan. You know.”

"Really." He sat forward and his moved to her waist, pulling her flush against him, but when she tilted her head to the side he bit his lip. "Well, I'm not like him."

"There are some cosmetic similarities." She pressed herself against his groin and smiled when his breath caught. “Shall I make the inquiry?”

Alistair’s mouth opened and then shut again, and he blushed to the roots of his hair. She touched her nose to his and waited. His hands tightened on her waist, and then his mouth found hers, suddenly hungry. Anora wondered that this was the same man whom she' d had to beg to consummate their marriage. His hands slid lower and she gasped; their relationship had changed somewhat since then.

He pulled away and looked up, helplessly snared. "I am a weak, weak man," he said. Anora took that as a yes.


End file.
